The Follower
by VarelliaNoel
Summary: Revamp of DragonFriend. T for language. Thanks to HereLies for the new title.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here is the first chapter of the re-write of DragonFriend. Sorry you're not getting new content, but I felt this needed to be done. Things are changing, characters will be different (and yet the same, I hope) and overall I hope this story has more of an effect than the other one. As always, enjoy, my lovelies.

The day was cheerfully bright, as if the sun itself was trying to shine a light on my dark mood. As I stepped out of Dragonsreach and into the sunlight, I brought a hand up to shield my eyes. My talk with Jarl Balgruuf had not gone as I had originally intended. Being the Dragonborn, I was more than accustomed to getting my way. I had become rather spoiled, and was not used to having to convince someone that what I wanted was what they should do.

Time, it would seem, was on my side. Just this once. Balgruuf thought I was mad when I told him to reconstruct the trap that had captured Numinex and kept him enslaved until his death. I had seen the look in his eye, had heard his disapproval. I had threatened him with time, and the fact that it was running out.

Every day Alduin spent in Sovngarde his strength grew. Balgruff had balked, but my insistence and the threat of the end of all things had cowed him into submission. He had agreed to rebuild the trap so I could catch Odahviing, but it had taken time to convince him. Time that I could not get back. He had promised the contraption would take first priority, but I had never trusted the man much. He had given me a housecarl, and in my haste and inexperience, she had died. Because of me. I could feel the disapproval in his gaze.

I stepped further out into the sunlight, cursing the lack of clouds, and made my way down the steps and toward the Bannered Mare for a well-deserved drink. The flowers were blooming and the air smelled fresh and clean. Spring had arrived, and with it the promise of new life. All I had to do was journey through a mythical portal and defeat the World-Eater to ensure that things would continue as they had for eons.

The people of Whiterun avoided my path, through either fear or respect. After defeating the dragon at the Western Watchtower and absorbing its soul, a feat some of the guards had witnessed firsthand, the citizens had treated me differently. It was unsettling at first, the respect I garnered as Dragonborn and the subsequent fear that accompanied it. Over time, as my reputation grew, it became something I expected. I was destined to save every life in all of Nirn. Very few people could boast the same.

I had lived outside the walls of Whiterun with my family until my parents had passed. After that, my brothers and sisters had scattered to the four corners of Skyrim, and some had ventured even further. Upon becoming Thane, I had been given the right to buy Breezehome. It was quaint and charming, and served as my home base. I owned properties in other cities, but Whiterun had always been my home, and I was loathe to turn my back on it for too long.

I strode through the streets of the city feeling a mixture of both pride and grief. Pride in the city that had helped raise me, and grief that if I did not succeed, it would be wiped away and lost forever. The burden of my destiny weighed heavily upon my mind. At times, it seemed that the best thing would be to perish in a battle against some other foe, rather than face what I had been born for. My soul rebelled against the thought, as did my pride. I could not allow myself to fall before I reached Sovngarde.

As I entered the Bannered Mare, the innkeep caught my eye and motioned me over. I had known Hulda since I was knee high to a grasshopper, and our history together was something I cherished. She had always been kind to my parents and bought some of our crops to use at the inn. After they died, she had offered me a job cleaning the place, which I had accepted gratefully. My eldest brother had inherited the farm, and with his growing family there was no room for the youngest girl child to stay. Hulda had offered me a place to sleep and food to eat in return for work done around the inn, and in my eyes I would be forever in her debt.

When I saw the troubled look on her face, I made my way to the counter and leaned close so we could speak. Her eyes kept darting to the darkest corner of the inn's taproom, to a customer sitting alone in the shadows.

"What is it, Hulda?" She fixed me with a worried glance, all the while scrubbing the counter with a damp rag. I could tell she was nervous, but the reason why evaded me. Whiterun was the center of trade in Skyrim, and saw more than its fair share of shady strangers. Why should one more make a difference?

"The man in the corner, the dark one, he strikes me as an odd one. He's been sitting there for hours. Hasn't ordered anything, he's just been sitting there. Makes me nervous, it does." She glanced his way again and quickly averted her eyes when she saw the man was watching our exchange.

"Have you thought that maybe he's just waiting for someone?" I asked her quietly. She was studiously avoiding that portion of the room now, her eyes landing everywhere but on the stranger that unsettled her so.

"Would you talk to him for me, Freya? Just see what he wants. If it's nothing, then your drinks are on the house." I sighed, but I couldn't refuse. Hulda had done so much for me, it was the least I could do to check in on a shady customer.

"I'll hold you to that, Hulda," I said with a grin, pushing off on the counter and turning towards the man in the corner. I walked over and nonchalantly took a seat across from him. He didn't budge. I did a quick assessment, judging the threat level he could be and deciding that with his bow unstrung and leaning against the back of his chair, and no other weapons that I could see, it probably wasn't very high. At the same time, he could have had weapons stashed all over his body, hidden from sight. I'd take my chances.

I fixed my gaze on his, noting the fair skin, high cheek bones, and impossibly black hair as I went. He had the strong features of a Nord, but they were far too elegant to be Nord alone. _Part elf, then,_ I decided. He sat beneath my searching gaze, saying nothing and making no movements. He simply watched me, watching him.

"May I ask what you're doing here, stranger?" I asked as politely as I could manage. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward and placing his forearms on the table. Even such a simple movement seemed impossibly graceful. He folded his hands together and studied me for a long moment before answering.

"May I ask why the famed Dragonborn is doing the bidding of a simple innkeeper?" His tone was light, teasing almost. My mood, already dark, darkened considerably more.

"I am doing a favor for a friend. That's all. She seems to think you're going to cause a problem, and I'm simply assuring her that you won't be a problem. I'd like to settle this peacefully, but if you'd like, we can take this outside and settle it my way." I didn't mean to come off so rude, but the stress of both past and future were straining me in ways I'd never felt before. Not to mention the fact that a good night's sleep had eluded me for the past few weeks. I was tired. Physically tired, mentally tired, and tired of waiting. The stress was causing more damage than I thought.

"Easy, Dragonborn. I meant no offense, I was simply curious." The stranger leaned back, giving me space, but kept his hands on the table in plain sight. _Smart man,_ I thought_._ "It looks to me as though you would be the one to cause trouble here, not me." _Perhaps not so smart._

"If you're not going to buy anything, then get out," I snapped. The other patrons of the inn were listening in now, curious about our exchange. I glanced around, instantly embarrassed by my behavior. Before I could say anything else, the dark stranger was out of his seat and on the move. He picked up his bow, bowed deeply to Hulda, who had been watching the entire exchange, and strode purposefully out of the inn.

"Shit," I muttered. Jumping from the chair, I raced to the door. "I'll come back to collect those drinks, Hulda!" I called over my shoulder as I fled the inn. Outside, the sun was shining full force. After the relative darkness of the inn, its brightness was blinding. I stumbled down the steps, tripping in my haste. When I was finally able to see, the stranger was halfway to the gates.

I ran to catch up, muttering pardons as I went to the passersby I disrupted. I called out to him, but he made no move to stop. I used the time to further assess his person. He wore dark leather armor, its condition run down but well cared for. On his back were two short blades, longer than daggers but not quite as long as a standard sword. Both were positioned upside down, blades crossed with the tips reaching his shoulder blades, the hilts resting just behind his hips. There was another hilt poking out of his right boot, one that belonged to an Elven dagger. My initial assessment amended, I decided he was far more dangerous than I first expected.

I sprinted the last few meters until I reached him, placing a hand on his back. He spun to face me so quickly I barely had time to register what had happened. His right hand was on the hilt of one of the short blades on his back, ready to face whatever threat he thought I posed. I held my hands at my sides, palms towards him, showing that I was unarmed and not a threat.

"Look, I'm not here to pick a fight. I came to apologize for what I said. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me like that. So, I'm sorry." My apology issued, I lowered my hands, letting them rest at my sides. He slowly relaxed his stance, his eyes shifting to our surroundings as if he still expected an attack. A rare shade of green, his eyes finally met mine, and his hand fell away from his weapon. He had his bow in his left hand, but unstrung we both knew it would be useless in a fight. Not that I was planning on fighting anyway.

His eyes narrowed, and he studied me for a moment before speaking, his voice low and immensely pleasing. "I wasn't aware that the Dragonborn apologized for anything." I sighed, shoulders slumping. Was my reputation really so terrible that a complete stranger would think me such an arrogant snob? I might be spoiled and accustomed to respect, but arrogant was not a word I would use to describe myself.

"I do when I've done something stupid. And I've definitely done something stupid. I really didn't mean to be so rude, and I truly am sorry I was. I won't try to make excuses, because there are none." As the Dragonborn, I should have been able to control my temper, no matter how stressed I was. But this man didn't need to know about any of that, and I wasn't about to try to explain to anyone how I was feeling. They wouldn't understand anyway. This was my burden to carry, and mine alone.

For a long moment, we stood in silence. It seemed as if his eyes could see straight through me. That despite the many walls I had built around myself for my protection, the calm demeanor I wore to lead others to believe all was well, he could somehow see what was going on inside. Inside, I was screaming. Screaming at the injustice, screaming in terror, screaming why me? His gaze became uncomfortable, and I broke eye contact and looked anywhere, anywhere else but at him. I settled on the toes of my dusty, travel worn boots.

"This is certainly an odd experience," he stated after a while, his voice amused. I looked up at him, and was met with a small smile. He had seen through me, seen right into my heart and soul. It was odd indeed, but I could not bring myself to smile. This stranger now knew how weak I truly was, and that the infallible Dragonborn was a thin shell, painstakingly painted over the real me.

This stranger now knew more than I wanted anyone to know. The people of Skyrim were counting on me to protect them and save them from their doom, and looked to me with hope in their eyes. But I was not worthy of their hope. This stranger knew this, and smiled. Not a mocking smile, or a smile meant to intimidate, but a smile that spoke of a mutual feeling. A smile that said, "I have been where you are now, and I have overcome my trials, just as you will."

It made me want to cry. I had not shed tears since the death of my parents all those years ago. I had hardened myself, and had not cried when Lydia had died trying to save me, or when Vorstag, or Stenvar had lost their lives while under my care. I forced back my tears, and my loneliness, and met his eyes with a hardened gaze.

"Just what exactly do you find so odd, hmm? That the fabled Dragonborn is not some unfeeling oaf of a warrior, and is actually human, and feels human emotions? Because yes, that is indeed odd, isn't it?" My foul mood had returned, and my words were an accurate reflection. I was frustrated, fed up, and ready to kill something. I was about to unleash another bout of shouting on this strange man when I heard it.

The distant echo of a dragon's roar.

A/N: Yes, things are very different. I felt like in DragonFriend, when I reread it, things were very rushed, and the characters were rather two dimensional and shallow. They lacked, well, character. There was hardly any backstory, and I was more worried about getting the story out than I was actually taking my time and making it something interesting to read. Hopefully you like this version better, and if not, feel free to let me know. Thanks for your time, everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello once again! Sorry it took me so long. Logic gates and soldering and bread boarding and other college related electrical shenanigans have kept me very busy! As well as my brain-rotting job. And a great book that kept me up late reading and took up every single second of spare time I had (Outlander, guys. It's the shiznit). Also relationship shenanigans but I'll not go into that. Anywho, here's another chapter for your perusal. I know it's significantly more dark than DragonFriend but I feel like with the weight of the world on your shoulders you're probably not gonna be all "Ooh yay so happieh all de times cuz I am behbeh inside." So yeah. Sorry? Maybe. Hope you enjoy it and PLEASE let me know what you think. Thanks in advance.

CH. 2

"I never said you could come with me," I said. We were jogging along the road leading towards the Western Watchtower, each step bringing us closer towards the circling dragon. From this distance, I couldn't tell what kind it was and didn't really care. My anger had not abated, and the only reason this stranger hadn't received the brunt of my wrath was because I had bigger problems. He could wait.

The sword at my hip tapped rhythmically against the steel armor encasing my thigh, keeping a steady tempo as we ran. The sun was still high, and thankfully there was no one else about. The less people I had to worry about protecting whilst I was fighting, the better.

"I never asked your permission," he retorted. I snorted, amused despite my anger. I didn't know many people that would willingly run towards a living Dov of their own volition. His courage, and calm in the face of this danger, gave me pause. Perhaps he wasn't the villain I had thought him to be. As we neared the tower, all thoughts of inconsequential things fled my mind.

It was replaced by a quiet so profound it was almost distracting. I kept my breathing steady and willed my heartbeat to slow. The fear that came with the threat of an impending battle was fierce, but was kept at bay when I remembered my purpose. I would not die this day. I would prevail, and this unnamed dragon would perish at the tip of my blade.

It was a blood dragon, the wide spade of its tail giving it away as soon as I was close enough to see it. The green tint of its scales glinted dully in the sunlight as it banked, circling around the far side of the tower. I slowed my pace, coming to a brisk walk as I drew my sword. The stranger slowed beside me, coming to a rest as he strung his bow.

It was a simple wooden thing, simple and dangerously beautiful, and nearly as tall as I was. I began to doubt whether or not the thing could be drawn, let alone if the thin twig of a man carrying it could wield it properly. Never mind him, I told myself. If he gets killed it's his own damn fault. And yet I knew that deep down, I would do everything in my power to keep him alive. This was not his fight, and yet he had followed me out of Whiterun to confront this beast like he had no fear of it.

The dragon sighted us, and roared its challenge. The call hung in the still air, a warning to all near that this was a battle to be avoided at all costs. I could see the dragon's pale eyes, its yellowed teeth bared in a threatening snarl. I stopped, standing poised and ready for battle, still as stone. Waiting. I had fought countless Blood dragons and defeated them all. This one would be no different.

I heard the creak of wood, a sharp intake of breath, and glanced over just in time to see the stranger sight down the nocked arrow, take aim, and let the arrow fly. The bowstring twanged, and before I could make a move, another arrow was sent after the first. The speed at which the man drew his bow, the graceful movements and apparent ease with which he handled his weapon was astounding.

A pained grunt drew my attention back to the dragon and the fight at hand. It was hovering in the air before us, its wings straining as it fought to stay in one place. It reared back, jaws agape, and I barely had time to shout a warning before a jet of white hot flame was sent in our direction. I rolled away as quickly as I could, getting back to my feet and sprinting away as the flames followed just behind me. It was the kick I needed to get my head back into the fight.

With its fiery attack completed, the dragon swooped away. All I need is for it to land, and then it's mine. A steady stream of arrows assaulted the dragon as it flew, most glancing harmlessly off of tough scales, and some finding soft flesh to tear into. I charged forwards, intent on bringing the dragon down by any means possible. When I was close enough, I inhaled deeply, feeling my chest swell with power, and Shouted at the dragon.

Dragonrend was a shout that left me sick. The first time I had used it, with Alduin on the Throat of the World, I had felt nothing. After he had fled and I resumed my travelling, I had used it on another dragon. The confusion and fear it caused the poor beast was pitiful, and the Words had left a foul taste in my mouth ever since. I envied dragons their wings, their ability to soar high above the land and ride the wind wherever they saw fit, and to take that away from them left me feeling hollow. It was a dirty, underhanded way to win a fight.

But I needed to win this fight, and soon, before the idiot that had followed me got himself killed. Watching the dragon as it fell to the ground tore at my heart. Yes, I was Dragonborn, and as such was destined to kill many of their kind. That did not mean I took pleasure in my task. The Dov were a proud race, old and wise. They were not meant to be Shouted down to writhe helplessly while I, a much lesser being, stole their lives and their souls.

O.O.O.O

I stood with my hands braced on my knees, breathing heavily. The dragon had finally succumbed to the combined might of both mine and the stranger's strength. He stood several feet away, staring at the corpse of the gargantuan beast in wonder. He had barely broken a sweat during the fight, and his breathing was slow and controlled. The bastard looked as if he had been taking a leisurely walk, not helping to slay a dragon.

Nonetheless, we were both alive and well, with barely any injuries to speak of. I'd sustained a gash above my left eye when the dragon had, in a last ditch effort to do away with me for good, swung his wing straight at my face. I had dodged only barely, and the dragon had thrown himself so badly off balance it had left an opening a mile wide. How could I pass up the chance? I had plunged my sword into the dragon a hard as I could, miraculously managing to slide the blade in between two massive ribs and into the soft flesh of a lung.

The dragon's dying had been a morbidly spectacular event. It had flailed about, blood streaming from its nostrils and mouth, and had destroyed everything around it. I managed to get out of the way just before getting squashed by a stamping hind leg. The stranger had turned the beast onto a living pincushion, putting arrow after arrow into any soft spot he could find. His aim was impeccable.

He jumped nearly out of his skin when the dragon began to burn, turning to ash before his very eyes. The soul, freed and seeking a new fleshy prison, raced towards me with astonishing speed and grace. My entire body seemed to vibrate and hum as it joined my own soul, and whispers of the Dragon Tongue washed through my mind. Curious, how such seemingly violent beasts had such peaceful souls. It was an intoxicating occurrence that, at times, drove me nearly to madness.

"What is your name?" I asked the stranger as he eyed me curiously. He seemed to debate giving me his name, and after a few moments in which he made up his mind, swept low into a graceful bow and once returned to his upright position, he said, "Silas."

A strange name for a Nord, to match his strange appearance. I nodded, brushing my hands together and standing up straight. My earlier anger had fled in the face of battle, and the soul had washed away any traces of lingering doubt or fear, leaving only a serene calm like the stillness of the sea just after a raging storm. He seemed to notice this, and spoke in a quiet voice.

"I wish to aid you, Dragonborn. For as long as you will allow it. I see that you do not need my help in physical struggles as you are more than a fit match for any foe you may come across, but I would like to help in whatever way I can."

I sighed. "Well met, Silas. I thank you for your assistance but I'm not in need of any assistance. As I'm sure you've heard, the trap at Dragonsreach is being prepared so that I can capture Odahviing and go to Skuldafn Temple. I have nothing left to do but wait."

He was silent for a while, his jade eyes unfocused as he stared out at the horizon. He seemed to be lost in thought, somewhere far away and perhaps in another time even. Emotions, fleeting and faint, flittered across his face. He stood still as stone, drifting through memories. When he came to, he glanced to his feet before fixing a very intense gaze on me.

"Do you really want to be alone for what could very well be your last days alive?"

I didn't. Not really. I sought solitude to distance myself from these people so that if I failed them, their faces would not haunt me in the afterlife. If there would even be an afterlife. I perched lightly on a nearby boulder, as if the weight of my destiny was solid and real. I had been carrying it for some time, locked away deep inside or drowned in copious amounts of ale. I had known that one day it would come bursting forth in a violent avalanche of emotion, but I had not expected it so soon.

I didn't realize I was trembling until there were hands on my shoulders holding me steady. The tears came soon after. The years and years of emotions I had held in crashed against the walls I had built up, walls which crumbled like dust against the force of despair and sorrow I now felt. I felt a pair of arms encircle my waist and suddenly I was crying very violently against a solid, steady chest that belonged to a man I had met not an hour before.

It was beyond humiliating. When I calmed down enough to realize it, I backed away and spun to face anything but him. My chest heaved brokenly as I tried to bring my breathing back to normal. All the while he only stood there, a reassuring presence at my back. It was strange that he had gone from an annoyance to a comfort so quickly. I felt like I had known him for years instead of a few scant hours, and it was an oddly disconcerting yet soothing feeling.

I peeked back at him from over my right shoulder, knowing I must look a mess. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, that barely there smile lingering on the edge of his lips. It was quiet now that I had stopped my blubbering, and despite the very large dragon skeleton laying several yards away and the battle that had taken place only minutes ago, everything was returning to normal. It gave me a small measure of hope, knowing that things continued even after something like that.

"Do you feel better?" Silas asked quietly. His lanky form was relaxed, and yet there was an almost unseen tenseness coiled in his lithe muscles, a tenseness I was all too familiar with. It was the tenseness born from having been attacked, and as a result always being on edge. Ready for anything and everything. A sure sign of a warrior born and bred.

I almost didn't want to answer him. I was afraid that if I told him yes, he would take it as a sign that I needed companionship; someone to share thoughts and memories with in what could be my last days alive. To say no, that I didn't feel better, would be a lie and both of us would know it. I was afraid of getting attached to another person that I would likely let down in the end. But I had a queer feeling about this man. Like I had perhaps known him in a past life and my soul recognized his even though I personally had no recollection of ever meeting him. Strange indeed, I thought.

"I do," I told him. The smile grew marginally. "I believe I was promised some drinks," I said. I had made up my mind. "You can join me, if you like." I felt better leaving him room to say no even though I knew he wouldn't. He full on grinned then, and I couldn't help but smile back at him. I smoothed back my sweat soaked hair to try and keep it out of my face, but I had cut it too short the last time and the strands refused to stay pulled back in the leather thong I frequently tied it into.

We walked back to the city in a comfortable silence. He had slung his bow-still strung- over one shoulder so that if crossed his body from right shoulder to left hip. I walked in silent envy of the seemingly innate grace he was so obviously blessed with. I would not venture so far as to say I was clumsy, but compared to his smooth gait and supple movements I looked every bit of clumsy and possibly more.

The sun was only just beginning to set by the time we made it to the stables, and soon disappeared behind the mountain range to the east. Soon the moons would rise and dance across the sky, partners that were never permitted to touch. It was both sad and beautiful. The guards let us in with no problems and we walked up the street to Breezehome unhindered.

"Wait here," I said as I unlocked the door. At any other time I would have never let a stranger into my home without supervision, but for some inexplicable reason I knew I could trust him. He gave me a look that spoke plainly that he thought it strange as well, but made no comment. "I'll be back with those drinks soon."

I left him there, a stranger in the thing that most resembled home to me, and barely thought twice about it as I walked away towards the Bannered Mare.


End file.
